The End and the Beginning
by Ersatz Einstein
Summary: A terrible war has just ended, and now the people of the world must pick up the pieces. These are my thoughts about the good side of the dystopia, and what could have led to it. Not my usual fandom, so please tell me how it comes across. Rated T.
1. Prologue

The war had been going on for years now. It wasn't one of those wars where they send everyone off to fight and leave you to think about it. It wasn't one of those wars where you sat at home every way, waiting for the newest batch of statistics to come in: cut, dried, and devoid of emotion. This wasn't that kind of war.

Instead, they had all been treated to a very different type of war. The first war ever where everyone is a civilian, is a statistic, but no one but the generals can sit back and view them. This was a civil war of the human race, where what had been a discussion of ideologies, a chat of professors over tea, had become a vicious, evil monster, a killer of children and neighbors. No one was safe. No one ever would be.

That's why it was so hard to believe. The war was over. There was sorrow and destruction everywhere, sure, but the war was finally over. Most couldn't even remember the names of the groups who had been fighting, and few had heard of the group that had won. All anyone knew was that things would be different now. Things would calm down. There would be peace again, and if this new group was telling the truth, there would never be war again.


	2. Chapter 1

Mark's graying hair belied his age. Although he looked to be in his early forties, be was really only twenty-seven. Premature wrinkles and a slight limp only increased the casual onlooker's faulty impression. Although he complained about the mistake often, Mark secretly reveled in his appearance of wisdom and experience. He had cultivated a scraggly goatee as soon as he was able, and was considering the addition of a mustache, in the hopes that it would add to his natural air of venerable age.

In contrast, Anna seemed surprisingly young, to the point that her marriage to Mark seemed ridiculous to many. Her hair was a light auburn, and she liked to wear it down, although it wasn't particularly long. Long hair was impractical, and one thing she had learned in her short life was the value of practicality. While Mark was often sullen around others, she could always coax a smile from him. She could make almost anyone smile and open up to her; trust just seemed to follow her.

They were, for all appearances, blissfully happy, and the only thing lacking to make their lives perfect was a child.

In this, they stood out from among the crowd that gathered when the winners came. Toothless crones hobbled among injured young men. Filthy children gazed at the shining caravan of jeeps with vacant eyes, bellies swollen from hunger. Most of the young adults carried children or other burdens, eyes glassy and indifferent. While their clothes were filthy and their ribs prominent, Mark and Anna could boast that they, at least, were interested in the proceedings, and still dared to have hope. They stood at the front of the crowd, jostling for position with a few other young men and women, along with a rabble of untidy urchins.

The mob's interest grew, however, when they saw what was in the jeeps. Crates marked "apples" and "blankets" were stacked high next to first aid kits and bottled water. Whispers of excitement leapt through the crowd like wildfire, and by the time the trucks grew near, the now-lively throng was cheering. In addition to the supplies, each jeep also carried three armed soldiers, one of whom drove. They clambered out of the vehicles as they stopped, drawing their menacing firearms and commanding the people to form orderly lines in a drawl that suggested that they had been doing this for some time.

As Anna excitedly fought for a position at the head of the line for canned goods, Mark stood back and watched a large van that had pulled up with the jeeps. It was guarded by four men, and the mob paid it little mind. That is, until the food had been distributed, at which point the doors at its rear were opened and a podium was removed. The refugees clutched their supplies and made room as it was placed in the center of what could be modestly termed their town. After the podium had been placed, a tall, muscular woman wearing a smart uniform stepped down from the front passenger seat. The soldiers saluted her as she passed, and the others instinctively gave her a wide berth, staring in naked curiosity. She walked briskly up to the lectern and said in a clear (but not unpleasant) voice:

"Hello. My name is Elaine. I am the new Receiver of Memories for your Community."

Anna and Mark exchanged a worried glance while the bemused crowd did their best to clap around armfuls of rations. No one knew what "Receiver of Memories" of "Community" meant, but the young couple knew one thing: it meant change.


	3. Chapter 2

They didn't quite understand everything Elaine said. It was a mixture of her flowery language, their lack of focus, and the long time that had passed since any of them had been addressed with real authority. (Later, Mark couldn't help but wonder if the force the armed men represented and the food were meant as distractions, but Anna _pshawed_ him.) The basics that most people could agree were said were as follows:

- The war was officially over.

- As a result, they, not to mention countless other groups living in small villages, were now to receive humanitarian aid.

- In order to prevent another war on this scale from breaking out, there was to be a new system of organization.

- Since this would likely be a rough transition, those who did not agree retained the option of remaining independent, so long as they didn't interfere with the things the government built. However, if they did so, they wouldn't get aid, and if they interfered, they would be killed. (Everyone remembered this last point because the soldiers had cocked their weapons for emphasis.)

- These new set-ups would be independently functioning "Communities," in which people would be cared for, so that they would feel no need to rebel. (Mark had a lot to say about this one.)

- This was followed by an explanation of how the Communities would work, which no one really understood.

- In conclusion, all wishing to join the new Community would report to the trucks three days from now to sign up and help with initial construction. ("Why can't we build it now, then decide?" Anna asked, prompting an approving grin from Mark.)

In the meantime, Mark and Anna thought over the choice that had been offered them. They could stay where they were, enduring the slow, grinding poverty and misery that had been the ruin of many young souls like them. On the other hand, the Communities remained a frightening unknown.

"Damnit!" shouted Mark, throwing a chipped plastic cup (recently filled with beer) at the wall. Anna shot him a quick glare: the cup had broken, and it had been a pointless waste. He blushed slightly, signaling his understanding that he was behaving like a child, before continuing his tirade.

"Don't you see? They've backed us into a corner! We don't have a choice. It's join or die, especially if everyone else leaves!"

"Do you really think that it'll be that horrible?" Anna asked plaintively.

"Yes… well, no. I doubt that they'll starve us, if that's what you mean. A kingdom without people is meaningless, so they must want us alive. No, they'll-"

"Who's 'they?'"

"These Community people. They don't want peace. All they want is control! God knows what they'll want us to do, and what they'll do with our lives!" He angrily got another cup and began to fill it from the bottle before he caught a glance of Anna's quizzical expression. Sighing, he put it down.

There was silence for a few minutes, tense and somber. Then Anna asked:

"We're joining, aren't we?" He sighed again, his apparent age somehow doubling with the sound, as if half his life was leaving his mouth in one long, exasperated breath. He looked down at his knobby knees covered by his filthy hands and the tension left his body. Without looking up, he replied:

"Yes. Yes, we are."


	4. Chapter 3

The next morning they reported to the center of town, as requested. Elaine wasn't there, and there were no speeches. Instead, the soldiers sat at little tables (probably also from the van) with patient smiles plastered on their faces. People waited in long lines to receive forms. They were then asked politely (if with a hint of condescension) if they could read. Most of them couldn't, so the military men kindly helped them fill out their applications with information like their date of birth, their age, and their aptitude in certain skills.

Then, they were handed over to a team of doctors, male and female. ("When did they show up?" asked Mark. Anna just shrugged.) They gently took the villagers aside and gave what for many of them was their first professional physical. Afterwards, the doctors gave them numbers on cards and told them to wait for instructions.

All of this time, the area about 100 feet away from the settlement was buzzing with activity. Apparently, eight hours the previous night had been plenty of time to send in tents, jeeps stocked with rations, more military personnel than anyone could count, and some peculiar building supplies. Anna knew that she wasn't supposed to do anything, but she was curious, so she went up to the nearest construction crew and asked what they were doing.

"Oh, this?" said a blond private, who was obviously no older than seventeen. "This is some of our terraforming equipment. A Disinto, to be precise. We use them to level large geological projections, like mountains."

"Why would you want to do that?" she asked, staring at the machine with undisguised curiosity.

"Well, level ground makes better farmland, and we're hoping to make the Communities mostly self-sufficient" he replied, his chest puffing out a little in response to her fascinated smile.

"Hey! George, you should be working!" shouted a pale woman with slanted eyes and a crew cut. The boy stuttered out a frightened "Yes, ma'am" then raced off, but not before giving Anna a conspiratorial wink. With effort, she kept herself from giggling as she turned to face the loud commander, expecting a scolding.

Instead, the woman's manner changed entirely. With a slightly unnerving smile, she asked why Anna wasn't with the other refugees. When Anna explained her curiosity, the smile grew warmer and the woman offered to show her around.

"Most of the people we find aren't as…interested as you," she added. Anna nodded in understanding. Most of these men and women put survival first and everything else second. It was a fair perspective.

The two traversed the work area, Anna throwing out excited questions about how everything worked. When they weren't looking at anything in particular, the woman, named Erica, explained that she'd been assigned to this Community on a permanent basis, along with a few others, due to the low population of the village.

"We thought there would be more of you," she said with a shrug. Anna didn't bother asking why there needed to be a certain number of people. She figured that she'd find out soon enough.

After about an hour, they returned to the waiting area and Erica went to one of the larger tents.

"Sorry, but I have to make my report. Honestly, three reports a day! I'm going mad." She laughed, and Anna chuckled.

She sat down next to Mark, who was shifting with irritation.

"Where were you?" he snapped.

"With Erica," she replied, pointing.

"Did she ask you any questions?" Suspicion was already clouding his face.

Anna tried to think back, suddenly nervous. "No, not really. She just let me look at everything and learn about it." Her cheer returned as she remembered. "You should have seen some of it! They have machines for everything, and Erica said that if I'm assigned as an Engineer, I'll get to learn how they work, and-"

"…And you said you'd love to be an engineer, right?"

She frowned. "Yes. So?"

Just then the flaps of a nearby tent opened. A man who looked to be in his late thirties, with just the barest suggestion of laugh lines, stepped out.

"Number 23?" he asked, peering at the group.

Mark stood up. "That's me," he said, his voice dull, carrying only the faintest echo of annoyance.

"Would you come with me? We have your job assignment and instructions." The man beckoned, and Mark plodded after the cheerful officer into the tent, flaps closing behind him.

* * *

**Hello, readers!**

**Yes, that's right, I'm doing this, even though I don't enjoy it (let's have three cheers for hypocrisy).**

**Anyway, I'm adding this to tell you that there's an Easter Egg in this story, and I'd love it if someone found it and sent me a P.M. (How does one punctuate the end of acronyms in front of periods anyway? It's just annoying.)**

**That lucky person gets 3 Ersatz Points, which are like real points, except they don't do anything. (Oh, and I'll update this post-chapter whatever-you-call-it to show the winner's name.)**


	5. Chapter 4

"Take a seat," the smiling man said. He then turned and left without another word. Mark shrugged and sat on a small folding chair in front of a large desk. _That must be hard to maneuver_ thought Mark, and he was validated a moment later as an officer entered and struggled to edge around the imposing piece of wood so as to sit behind it. _The best part,_ Mark thought, _is the way he tries to retain his dignity._ It was nigh impossible to suppress a small smirk, and Mark made no effort to do so.

As the officer turned to inspect him, Mark took the opportunity to study his face. He was clearly in his early twenties, which explained his awkwardness with the desk. _He probably saw it and thought, "Hey, what a nifty desk for an officer. I've got to get me one of those!" without giving a thought to where it was going to be._ To cover his embarrassment on the manner, the man began to go through a file in front of him. Peering over the monolithic desk, Mark could see his own handwriting on the top sheet.

Five minutes went by. _He's probably trying to intimidate me by making me wait. As if I hadn't waited for long enough. _Finally, Mark had had enough.

"Excuse me!" The officer looked up in genuine surprise at the older man.

"Yes, sir?"

"I've been waiting out in the hot sun for a good two hours, and here you are trying to intimidate me by pretending you're too dumb to read a page of writing in ten minutes! I have half a mind to make a complaint to your superior. Do you have any idea how unprofessional, nay, how unmilitary, it is to neglect or poorly perform one's duty out of a childish desire to appear better than me, which, by the way, isn't working? God, if you did this every time you had to squeeze around that ridiculous (not to mention difficult to transport) piece of wood, it's no wonder I was kept waiting! Now," he snarled as he leaned across the monstrous oak construction under debate. "Will you kindly get on with it?"

The officer nodded, his face turning red with embarrassment. Mark almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

"Well, um, Number twenty-three… can I call you Mark?" A nod encouraged the now-shaking boy. "We've evaluated your aptitude and personality, and decided that you would do well as a Council Member. How does that sound?"

"What, exactly, does a Council Member do?"

"Well, they decide legal matters." He grew eager as he warmed to a subject he understood better than the other man. "Like trials and disputes among the populace. They also conduct ceremonies and interpret the Assignment aptitudes for future Community members, and they-"

"Hang on, the next Community members won't get to decide their own jobs?"

The young man shot Mark a look of irritation at the interruption. "Well, no. I mean, it's part of your job to check to see what they're best at, and how they'll best serve the Community, and we're confident that with your keen perception, strong opinions, and dedication, you'll be perfect at helping young people with their futures!"

"Well…" Mark said, slightly mollified.

"Besides, if they don't like their Assignments, they can always apply for Transfers."

"To where?"

"Other Communities, or the area outside of Communities."

Mark thought it over. He had no real objections. After all, people would be able to decide what happened to them, and even if this was an unfair amount of power, it was better that he had it, as opposed to some corrupt cretin.

"So Mark, how does that sound?"

"Fine. When do I start?"


	6. Chapter 5

Mark glanced around the large room for the Council. He hated to admit it, but he was well and truly impressed with what the army had managed to put together. In just a few days, they had turned the area within a thirty-mile radius into a Community. They said that it was just a standard group of dwellings, but to Mark it seemed like a vast city. They said that it would support a population of 4,000, a number that, frankly, shocked him. It didn't help his sense of isolation that he was surrounded by strangers, as people from several small villages had been culled to form the population of the new Community._ 4,000 people? I'm going to help run a city of 4,000 people? Where do I even start?_ However, he did an admirable job of preserving his caustic demeanor and apparent indifference. More than once during this meeting, he had spotted another new Council Member staring at him in wonder. Most of the others didn't have his self-control.

Yesterday, he and the other new Community members had all attended a rather vapid

Ceremony. (Yes, he had checked, and yes, it really _was_ capitalized.) The upshot of the ordeal was that they all received large manila envelopes containing information on their new Assignments. _They acted like no one knew their Assignments, but I didn't see a surprised face there. And I thought I was the only one who heard beforeha- of course! They're trying to single each of us out, boost our self-confidence._

"Mark?" asked a high voice, startling him out of his reverie. He blinked across the huge conference table _(almost bigger than that stupid desk)_ at a redheaded woman who looked to be in her late thirties. Her strained tone suggested that this wasn't the first time she had called. Mark was tempted to blush, but he instead gave a sarcastic apology and asked her to please continue her _fascinating_ speech. Without missing a beat, she replied that anyone who had been listening would have known that she was calling roll. Then he really did blush.

"To continue," she went on, barely covering a smug grin, "we will be dividing the initial work of the Council amongst ourselves." She then began to gesture to different people at the table, naming them and describing their duties. Mark couldn't help it; he began to lose focus again. He had never been to a long meeting like this before. His eyes settled on the woman who had apparently been given charge. There was an air of command about her that he almost instinctively disliked. Her manner of speaking implied that she expected instant obedience, and her voice was gratingly high. Her face was beginning to develop wrinkles, but they didn't detract from her overall appearance. She probably didn't have children, as her figure was relatively unworn…

"Mark!" He shook his head, furious that she had caught him again. The other Council members, formerly nervous and (possibly) a little intimidated of him, could scarce contain their laughter. An ironic lift of the eyebrow was all that the Council leader would allow herself, with enraged him all the more. _**I**__ should be the one doing that! I should be in charge here!_ However, admitting his anger out loud would have been an admission of defeat.

"Yes?" he asked, his tone saccharine.

She glared, replacing the bile in his spleen with a warm glow. "_You_, Mark, will be working with me. We will administer the first court proceedings. Is that understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," he chirped.

"My name is _Aviva_, and you will address me as such," she hissed. _Ah, Aviva. Good to know._ He smiled at her innocently and murmured an apology. _I'm going to enjoy this._


	7. Chapter 6

It was time for Anna's first meeting with the "Receiver of Memory," whatever that was. (Mark had remarked that it sounded like a piece of technology in a hypothetical future. It had been difficult to conceal her giggling.) Elaine seemed nice enough, making Anna wonder why Mark had been so suspicious, and she had a friendly laugh. She sat across from her in the newly built Annex, which, much to Anna's delight, was filled with comfortable furniture.

"So," she ventured. "Why am I seeing you early?"

She smiled benevolently, yet not condescendingly, at her. "Well, the group that set up the Communities made it clear policy that those of your profession were to be among the first treated."

"That doesn't really answer my question." She frowned a little, allowing wrinkles to form on her forehead, then cleared her face and sat back to take a sip of hot tea.

She chuckled. "Of course it doesn't, and I should've known that you'd point it out." She leaned forwards, serious but for a slightly raised eyebrow. "Is flattery going to get me a few days' reprieve?"

"All _right,_" she sighed, exaggerating each syllable.

She sat upright. "Good. Then, shall we begin?"

"OK. How do we start?"

"Lie down on the ground and let me touch your back."

She was about to snort, but she realized that she was serious. Dubiously, she complied. "My husband's not going to hear about this, is he?" she joked.

The Receiver's face crinkled when she smiled. "Of course not." Then, her expression became more comforting, more fatherly, as if she sensed Anna's concerns. "It'll be fine, trust me" she added. "I am, after all, a professional."

"Oh, _that's_ a relief." But her joking attitude disappeared a moment later as cool hands pressed into her back. Tears filled her eyes as she gasped. Her memories raced by her in torrents. Stranger still, they weren't just hers. There were others that she didn't recognize, things that she had only heard about from her father or her grandmother. As each event passed her consciousness, it was gone, sucked in by the hands at her back. Growing frightened, she rose, pushing the Receiver away.

She backed off without a struggle, raising her hands defensively. "It's alright, Anna" she said soothingly. "I didn't expect it to take only one session in any case."

"Wh-What did you _do_ to me?!"

Her smile returned, but now it was tinged with sadness. "I took some of your pain away. Not all of it, or even most. I trust that you feel better now?" She was telling the truth. Now that she stopped to think about it, she felt lighter than she had in years, younger, happier. Then, another question occurred to her.

"Wh-Why?"

"Because the Communities are safe places. We don't need pain here." The next time Elaine smiled, she found herself smiling back. Quickly recovering herself, she continued.

"What else will you take?"

"Nothing you need, and nothing that will make you happier."

She stopped to digest this. "Why start with my profession?" she repeated.

"Isn't it obvious? You are training to be an Engineer. That's an important job, and one that shouldn't be controlled by anger and pain. That's how wars start."

She nodded. Her tone was sensible, yet now that she thought about it, she wasn't quite sure what "war" was. Maybe she'd ask Mark later, if she could keep track of it.


	8. Chapter 7

When Mark was little, someone had once told him that if you waited long enough in the woods at night in just the right spot, gremlins would appear. He'd been about six, so that very night he went out to the spot. He'd sat there staring intently at a tree for about five hours before realizing that it was a prank. He'd stumbled back to bed, exhausted, bored, and frustrated at the time he'd wasted.

At the moment, Mark wished he were still sitting in front of that tree.

He was sitting next to Aviva in the newly built courthouse. Most of the cases they'd received were about lazy workers and labor shortages. To the surprise of none, Aviva was perky and alert, rapping out verdicts in a bark with a somehow nasal quality. On his part, Mark was trying very hard not to claw holes in his desk. He couldn't help gazing at his coworker, hating her for how at home she seemed. Every now and then, he'd feel a sharp kick in the side, only to look up and realize that he was supposed to be talking. He'd never felt so embarrassed, or so useless, as he did that morning.

Finally, it ended. "Alright, it's noon, so we'll close for today. We can operate for longer tomorrow. How about lunch?" said Aviva, glancing casually down at her watch, then eyeing Mark quizzically. Match nodded wearily and plodded after her out the large oaken doors.

They were scarcely twenty feet from the large building before Aviva broke into a run. Shocked, Mark dashed after her. They raced, side-by-side, towards the river. Finally, they pulled to a stop at the banks, grasping their knees and laughing with the endorphins. Mark looked over at Aviva, both grinning like loons.

"Ah _ha!_" he crowed. "So I wasn't the only one waiting for it to end!"

"Of course not! Were you even _there!_ I wanted to bang my head against the desk to knock the boredom loose!"

He was still gasping happily. It had been ages since he'd just run for the fun of it. "Then why… were you so… perfect?"

Her expression grew solemn. "It's an important job, Mark. We have to do our best. We don't have to like it, but we have to try."

He peered at her. She was watching him expectantly. He nodded. "I'll try."

"Great!" She clapped her hands, and Mark's heart sank, wondering if she'd make them go back. "Now," she added, looking at him mischievously. "How about we wade for a while?"

…

Mark got home at around five, soaking wet and slightly sunburned. They'd started off wading, but then she'd splashed him, and the next thing either had known, they'd been swimming about and laughing like a pair of kids. He'd decided that Aviva wasn't as bad as he'd thought at first. There was something in his movement reminiscent of a skip as he strolled home.

Anna was waiting for him. He greeted her with a smile and a kiss. "Welcome home," she said, before laughing and adding, "Not so close! You'll get me all wet! How did that even happen?"

"Aviva and I went swimming after work. We were just both so sick of being cooped up inside."

She raised an eyebrow. "Is this the same Aviva you called a 'waste of the oxygen we breathe' last night?"

"Well, yes, but I think that I may have misjudged her."

"Glad to hear you can still change your mind." She wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him close. "Is she pretty? Should I be jealous?"

He chuckled and kissed her. "As if. You're the only woman I want. Now, how about you tell me about your day while we… prepare for bed?"

"Well, I see why I'm the only woman you want." She stroked his nose with a finger and pulled away, beckoning him after her. He grinned and followed her.

Had he only been thinking entirely of her, it would have been a moment of perfection.


	9. Chapter 8

From then on, court seemed a pleasure. Mark was sure to pay attention, if only to please his coworker. Occasionally, when no one was looking, they'd glance at each other and make gestures indicative of suicide. He began to take a real interest in his work, and his lunch breaks and volunteer hours were filled with joy.

In contrast, he found himself growing ever more cold and distant at home. Anna didn't understand it. It seemed as if her loving husband had been exorcised, leaving only an empty body free of the ghost of personality. She would smile, hug him when he got home, and prepare his favorite foods, but he'd just nod absently and brush her away. At the table, he'd grunt and eat, answering her questions in monosyllables.

Fortunately, her despondency was soon replaced by something else. She didn't know if it was her job, which was incredibly interesting (although she had no idea why she needed so urgently to develop projectile-hurling devices) or her sessions with the new Receiver, but she found her need for Mark's affection slipping away. In its place, she found a not-unpleasant apathy. She continued to smile at Mark and ask about his day, but her eyes became as vacant and calm as his.

Eventually, he noticed her new coolness. He wanted to do something, bring her flowers, shower her with gifts, or show her he cared… but he didn't. It wasn't just the note of finality in her easy indifference or the sense that he couldn't reach her now. Simply put, he didn't want to. Much as he hated to realize it, he just didn't care anymore, or at least, he didn't care enough to bother doing anything. The relaxed silence was just… easier, and much as it horrified him to recognize it as such, his attention had shifted.

_She_ crept in at the fuzzy borders of his self-control, invading his most personal moments, both those spent alone and those with Anna. He was ashamed, and he wished that the feelings would go away, but that wasn't enough to stop the thoughts. He grew desperate, avoiding both Anna and Aviva, afraid that he would do something terrible when given the chance.

One evening, Anna said something that promised to end the torment. Apparently, Elaine was a miracle worker. Anna claimed that she could go in to speak with the woman, leaving with nothing but a feeling of well-being and no recollection of whatever the silly problem had been in the first place. Mark was a somewhat chary, if only because he was afraid that Elaine would tell Anna, but his desperation soon overcame his doubts.

So it was that he found himself hesitantly knocking on a half-hidden door behind the House of the Old. Elaine answered, smiling.

"Why, hello. It's Mark, right?" she asked, extending a hand.

He shook it awkwardly. "Yes, it is, Can I… come in?"

"Of course. May I take your coat?"

"Oh, thank you." He stood awkwardly in the foyer as she bustled about, hanging up his coat and putting a kettle on the stove. Walking back into the room, she pushed him over to a comfortable chair.

They made small talk until the tea was ready. As it sat steaming in mugs in front of them, he took a deep breath and began to explain the situation to the Receiver. When he was finished, she nodded and looked up at him.

"I can help with what you're feeling, but I'd like for you to trust me." He nodded cautiously. "You sure? Alright, please take your shirt off and lie down."

Mark was so surprised that he spilled his steaming-hot tea on his shirtfront. Spluttering, he glared up at her. "Are you joking? I tell you something serious, and all you can do is make a crack about how, how _easy_ I am?!" He stood to leave, pausing as a hand gripped his wrist.

"It's not a joke." Her voice was stern, and he looked at her with an unwilling respect. "I asked you to trust me for a reason. Now, do you want for this to get better?" He nodded meekly. "Good!" she barked. "Now take off your shirt and lie down."

He hurriedly did as she'd commanded. Her face settled into its original attitude of patience.

"Now, don't worry," she murmured. "This won't hurt a bit."

…

It was almost six. Aviva was just preparing her dinner when she heard a knock at the door. Holding a wooden spoon in one hand, she went to answer it.

"Mark?" she inquired, her smile betraying her joy in seeing him. "What are you doing here?"

"I was wondering if you could spare a meal." He chortled, and she blushed.

"But your wife, won't she-"

"She doesn't mind," he interrupted. Then, he grinned. "Come on, you wouldn't leave me to starve, would you?"

With some hesitation, she opened the door wide, inviting him in for the first of many nights.


	10. Chapter 9

Mark had never been happier. Spring was here, Aviva was exciting and new, and even court seemed to have a freshness about it that he couldn't resist. As far as Anna was concerned… well, he didn't really care. She was friendly polite, he was perfectly cordial, and if there was a lack of stimulating conversation over dinner, then at least it was due to mutual disinterest. They both chattered idly about their jobs and the food before lapsing into a comfortable, if rather boring, silence.

Occasionally, Mark felt a pang of guilt, but then he'd visit Elaine and the feeling would go away. He somehow sensed that Anna was doing something similar. Every now and then, she'd seem uneasy when asked about her work. He went to consult Elaine and came home reassured that there was no real problem. His calm remained intact… that is, until the day Anna suggested having a child.

She was very calm about it, very straightforward. Mark could tell that she'd already gone to see Elaine about the matter. They had all but stopped having… relations in any case. Frankly, neither of them wanted to start again anyway. (Anna was taking some pills Elaine had prescribed following the start of his affair. He wondered if those were relevant. As far as he was concerned, Aviva was enough.)

Fortunately, a new option had presented itself in the form of the Community's nurseries. Elaine had told Anna that they could simply fill out some paperwork to receive a child, and the idea was a compelling one. Anna needed something to occupy her time, and some part of her seemed to think that a baby at home would convince Mark of his responsibilities. Mark, for his part, simply wanted Anna to have something to do other than work and talk with him. There had been something… off about her for some time now. Maybe a baby would fix that.

And so, they went down to the Nursery to get the necessary forms the next day. They knew one of the Nurturers there, a young red-haired man, and he was kind enough to show them around. They giggled at some of the babies' names, and for a moment it was as if nothing had changed between them.

…

"Mark! Is there something wrong?"

"Oh, um, sorry. I was drifting. What did you say?"

Aviva stroked his cheek, smiling softly. The only light came from the bedside lamp behind her, which left her face in shadow. "I asked if you're sure that everything's OK. You've been 'drifting' all night, and I'm starting to worry. Has something changed at home?"

"Yes." He leaned up on one elbow to look at her better. "We've applied for a child, but Aviva-" She had turned away, and he held her face with one hand as he spoke. "I-I don't think that that's it, exactly." He looked down at the cream-colored sheets wrapped around them.

"What is it, Mark?" Her eyes were filled with tears.

He sighed. "She's my wife. This, I… I don't know what it is, but this is wrong. I'm sure of it."

"Mark, I love you." She expected a response. Maybe not reconciliation, but tears, or anger, or maybe even joy. She didn't expect what happened next.

"I'm sorry, Aviva, but I don't know what you mean." His eyes were blank and confused; his expression was quizzical.

An hour later he was home, still rubbing his face in bemusement. _'What was that?'_ he thought. _'Why on Earth did she slap me?'_


	11. Chapter 10

Anna huddled on the ground, shivering with… she wasn't sure. Withdrawal, maybe? After all, she had stopped taking the pills today, mainly because they made her feel clouded. Now, she wished that she hadn't been so rash. After all, she still felt clouded; the difference was that the cumulonimbi in her mind now seemed scary and dangerous, charged with the lightning of things she couldn't remember.

She wanted to call Elaine, but she felt as though once she stood up, she would sway and sink into the floor. Pausing for a moment to question that idea, she realized that she was crying.

A blonde man walked into the room. Recognizing him, she made an effort to smile, but the intended gesture came out as a grimace. He was a colleague of hers, a talented young engineer. He stared at her for an eternal minute, unsure of what to do.

"Call my husband," she whispered. "He'll know what to do." The youth started to object, then thought better of it and left.

Twenty minutes later, Mark followed the man back into the room. He was asking for the reason for his presence. After all, non-engineers weren't allowed in this area and-

He stopped short, ending his query mid-sentence. Recovering himself, he advanced towards his wife. "Anna," he said soothingly. "It's all right. How about we get you home and I cook dinner, OK?" He continued to mumble calm things as he wrapped his arm around the sobbing woman and lifted her to her feet. Anna gratefully clung to him, ignoring, for the moment, his inquisitive, frightened glances at the machinery around them.

…

Anna was curled up on the couch, covered by a blanket and digging through a carton of cookie-dough ice cream with a spoon. She could hear Mark washing dishes in the kitchen. The sink turned off and Mark reentered the room, his footsteps muffled by his stockings. He sat down in the chair across from her and watched her for a moment, smiling softly.

Finally, he broke the silence. "Do you want to talk about it? I mean, I'd understand if you didn't, but…" He trailed off awkwardly.

"I… I'm not really sure. I hadn't taken my pill today. It makes me a little unfocused. Anyway, I've felt kind of sick and weird all day, and then, when I was working, someone mentioned Aviva and I-I-"

"You what?" His eyes had hardened and she felt a twinge of… something.

"I just started crying. I don't know why." There was another silence, more awkward than the last.

"I've stopped seeing Aviva. I don't know why, but it seemed… wrong, somehow." She smiled a little.

"Come here." As soon as he got within reach, she pulled him close to her and kissed his forehead. He chuckled and leaned back in his chair.

"Anna?"

"Yes, Mark?"

"I was just wondering… what were those machines doing there?"

"I'm not allowed to tell you." She grinned cheekily, but Mark's thoughtful frown only deepened.

"Anna, this is important." There was a slight warning note in his voice. She figured that she might as well tell him.

"We build them. I don't know why."

"You don't _know?!_" He rose to his feet, growing more agitated by the second. "How could you not know, or even be curious, or-"

"Mark! Settle down! What are you so afraid of?"

He looked at her as if she had lost her mind. "What am I _afraid_ of? What if they're stockpiling for another war? Who knows who we'll be fighting if we need that many tanks, and were those _bombs?!_"

"Mark, sweetie, what are you talking about? Tanks? Bombs? War? You're making things up!" Her expression softened into one of gentle concern. "I can see that you're a little frightened by this afternoon. Maybe you should go lie down."

"Anna, what are you… ? What have they done to you?" The realization that she genuinely didn't know what he was saying felt like a tray of ice cubes dumped down his collar.

"They? There's no 'they.'" A note of irritation crept into her voice. "You're just being paranoid. Now come on. You should get some rest." She smiled gently and patted his knee. He wordlessly got up and accompanied her to bed.


	12. Chapter 11

A week later, Anna was gone.

Mark didn't even notice it at first, so accustomed was he to the eternal silence that reigned in their house and to the different hours at which they worked. When he _did_ notice, he tried to tell himself that he was just paranoid, that Anna hadn't really gone missing. There was some part of him, some evil, small part, that wouldn't stop whispering that she had decided to pay him back in kind for his betrayal. Had she let him?

Why didn't she call, or at least leave a note?

The idea of the note obsessed him. He found himself making excuses to avoid work, to stay at home, searching. He wasn't sure why he was doing it. He supposed that the pills he'd started taking were starting to cloud his own mind. He didn't really care. He'd seen her go without them, and wasn't so foolish as to imagine that he could find while barely functioning.

In the meantime, the house quickly changed from an ordered, harmonious place to a cacophony of clutter. The floor was bestrewn with papers even as drawers were pulled from their cabinets and those articles of furniture were forced from where they crouched at the walls, shoved into the center of the room for interrogation and inspection. Unfortunately, he was soon forced to accept that there was no note, no clue as to his wife's disappearance.

He went to her workplace, only to be told that her things had been removed by orders from the court. The man he spoke to didn't seem to care one way or another. It wasn't until after Mark had stomped away in frustration that he realized where he'd seen the man before: the day they'd registered for Community membership. He'd been the excited young soldier who'd escorted Anna around the machinery.

The mention of the court, however, had interested him. He decided that he'd speak with Aviva, hoping that she held enough goodwill for him, if not for Anna, to help.

As he raced to the courthouse, he turned it over in his mind. There was something strange going on, but what? First, Anna had started forgetting things when they went to visit Elaine. He'd felt himself getting fuzzier, too, now that he thought about it. _'No, but I… How would I know if I was? Yes, that's it! That must be it! I'm forgetting, too… and it was before the pills, too… What about the pills? Anna said they made her fuzzy, oh no Anna, I… Why do I care so much? She's my wife! What does that matter? Why do I feel it should? I'm forgetting, I'm forgetting… Forgetting, like Anna… Why is that happening? When did the forgetting start? Seeing Aviva, went to see Elaine… Elaine! Anna, Anna. What'd she say about Elaine? I'm sure I remember… Yes! "Never remember what was wrong anyway…" Yes! That's it! I'm sure that's it… Why is she gone? I forgot what it meant to be her husband, that's why… No, she didn't care. Why didn't she care? Elaine, forgetting… made her forget- what did Aviva say? - "love?" Why not? She made me, made me forget love, Aviva slapped me and I… made her forget… war! Of course! Then I reminded her. She must've said something, asked, like I said… Oh, no! This is my fault, all my fault… I told her, and now she's gone, and they must've gotten rid of her, 'cause that's what they do, what they do when someone finds out… Who is they? Anna asked me… oh, Anna!... Anna asked me who they are/is. Need to ask Aviva at court… need answers…'_

He thought much in this vein for the entire trip, resolving finally that he simply had to see Aviva, that she would tell him what had happened. The lack of lighting and inoffensive "Closed" sign barely slowed him: he simply typed a password into a small computer screen by the entrance and strode through the door. He knew that Aviva usually stayed late, working on cases. Visualizing her tiny office, lit by the glow of a single bulb, well covered by a fashionable lampshade, he took the stairs two at a time.

However, upon bursting into her rooms, he was surprised to find that she wasn't there. He was stunned to see that the rooms weren't empty.

"Hello, Mark," said Elaine. "I've been expecting you."


	13. Chapter 12

"You _what?_"

"I've. Been. Expecting you." She gave him a slightly mischievous smile. "Clear?"

"But… why?"

"Because you're worried about your wife. Honestly, I don't see why. After all, you were much happier with Aviva, weren't you?"

"Where is she?"

"Aviva or Anna?"

"Anna! My wife!" He reached forward and grabbed her shoulders. Her response startled him: rather than backing away, or even looking frightened, she laughed.

"Now, now, you know that you don't mean that." As he loosened his grip in surprise, she leaned back in the chair. "You don't care about her. You just have a sneaking suspicion that you're _supposed_ to. Ha! You don't even know why."

"W-well, that's… that's not true! I-I-"

"No," she interrupted curtly. "You don't. You don't even know what it means. That's why Aviva is angry with you." She stood and strode towards a bookshelf across the room. She lifted a thick red volume from the shelf and idly thumbed through the pages. "It's no big deal, though. Knowing would just make you unhappy." She looked up. "You do remember that, don't you? How unhappy you were when you knew, and how guilty you felt for knowing."

He gritted his teeth. "Where. Is. Anna?"

"Gone. She's been 'Released to Elsewhere.'" There was a brief pause as she inspected his bemused expression. "That means dead."

"You murdered her!"

"No, you did. You're the one who told her. The one who made her unhappy. The one who made her ask her superiors what was going on, and how she could escape. The one who made her practically _beg_ to get out."

She spun on her heel and walked towards him, her voice steadily increasing in volume. "You're the one who drove her to it! We may not be saints, but we are not monsters. We don't do what we do out of cruelty, but out of kindness. _Every_ society needs weapons to guard the peace and defend itself. Every society needs to be able to kill troublemakers at will. Every society controls what its people think and feel, to some extent… but we're the only ones that try to spare the populace these unfortunate facts. Don't you see? All we want is to make them happy. What do you want? Your old life, filled with filth, starvation, and the constant threat of war? Or this? Peace, order, stability, education for your children. _What do you want?_"

"Truth."

"Truth? Why? What would you do if you knew the truth?"

"Change it."

"Why?"

"To help people."

"Even people you'd never meet? Or worse, people who wouldn't understand what you'd done for them, who would curse you for what you'd worked so hard to provide? You'd do it to feel good about yourself and earn the respect of your friends. That's what charity _is_."

She covered the remainder of the distance between them and poked him in the chest. When she next spoke, it was in a scarcely audible whisper. "Now, wouldn't it just be easier to get that feeling from doing your part for the Community, rather than wasting your time on a fruitless effort? You don't need reality to change. Reality is as good as it's going to get. What you need to do is sit back and appreciate how good it is."

"You want me to _thank_ you for this?"

"No." She pushed past him and began to walk to the door. "But as I just said, charity is thankless work."

She turned off the light as she walked away, leaving him in darkness.


	14. Chapter 13

A few weeks later, the Community had its yearly Ceremony. Mark attended more out of an inability to decide what else to do than anything else. He was feeling decidedly listless, with overtones of depression and hints of despair. Anna wasn't there, and it was his fault. Yes, it was the Community's fault, but that didn't excuse him. He'd made her depressed and miserable enough to go to them, to let them- no! He couldn't think about that.

He clapped mechanically at the end of each portion of the Ceremony, the sharp echoes of the applause fading into a dull monotone as they entered his brain. He looked up at the bright blue sky and wondered why he thought that he deserved to experience it, why he couldn't just die. The answer, of course, was Anna. She wouldn't have wanted it. As much as he hated to admit it, it was the truth.

Suddenly, his neighbor was nudging him on the shoulder. Shaking himself, he gave the man an inquiring glance.

"They're calling you," whispered the stranger. Nodding absentmindedly, Mark ascended the stage, walking through a fog of silent confusion at his behavior. Fortunately, he was long past giving a damn.

The Council of Elders ("pretentious name," some remnant of the old Mark whispered) awaited him. Having utterly missed the context, he assumed that they were going to announce his "Release," as they called it. He couldn't have cared less. If anything, he was glad of the opportunity to die without responsibility for the act.

As a result, he was nothing short of flabbergasted when a young woman handed him a tiny baby. "Her name is Marcia," she whispered.

He nodded slowly, remembering their application. It had been weeks ago, and the events since then had made him forget. When he had thought about it, he'd dismissed it, assuming that they'd have cancelled the request after they killed his wife.

"Thank you," he whispered with a gratitude which, much to his surprise, he felt. He gently carried the squirming bundle back to his seat. He wasn't sure why, but he wanted to cry. She was so perfect, so beautiful, that he couldn't seem to stop smiling at her.

The Ceremony continued. He didn't pay attention to a single word of it. He just stared at his lap, rocking the small life that had been entrusted to him. As he watched, she opened her eyes and yawned. She reached out a fleshy hand, fingers almost round from their short length and profusion of fat. He held out his finger for her to hold and a tear ran down his cheek.

"Hi-ya, Marcie," he whispered. "I'm your daddy."


End file.
